The Phantom
by Little Lotte Daae
Summary: One of the most beautiful stories ever told adapted to the Harry Potter world...WARNING! becoming a strong 'T'. getting darker...be prepared! formatting changes to aid readability coming very soon.
1. Default Chapter

_Please please read this before you read the fic! If you ask me one of these questions (which I will already have answered) in your review, I will laugh and throw rotten pineapples at you. So save us both a little time and PLEASE READ THIS A/N!_

_This story has been in existence for a couple of weeks, and I previewed it to a couple of close friends so I could gather some of the most frequently asked questions. Here are the questions and answers, which I think will clear up a good deal about this story before you begin to read._

_Q: Is this a Harry Potter / Phantom of the Opera crossover?_

_A: Well, no, I wouldn't say that. Call it…more of a 'Phantom' inspired story. Meaning, characters from 'Phantom' aren't going to be popping up, though I may mirror them with Harry Potter characters. You won't need to know the story of 'Phantom' before reading this. That said, I'm not going to follow the 'Phantom' plot line exactly. Parts of the fic will be ripped straight from the Phantom of the Opera novel, parts will be ripped straight from the Harry Potter books, and parts will be ripped straight from my brain (which doesn't hurt quite as bad as you may think)._

_Q: Who is the Phantom?_

_A: In this story, the character that mirrors the Phantom will be :drumroll: Severus Snape! Come on, who else could it possibly have been?_

_Q: Who are the other characters?_

_A: You'll have to read to find that one out. However, I will say that the lead female in the story will be Hermione. In regards to Hermione, I will say that she is not my favorite HP character. I prefer Ginny by far, but when put to logic, Hermione is really the only HP female that I think would work with Snape. And you will just have to read to figure out who the other lead male (Hermione's other love interest) is._

_Any other questions? Leave me a review and I will do my best to reply quickly._

* * *

"He is injured."

Albus Dumbledore was a flash of magenta robes, tearing out of his private office as fast as the physical world would allow. It was all Hermione could do to keep up with him, hearing her heart pounding somewhere in the region of her ears.

"Where is he, Minerva?"

"Hospital Wing," came the breathless reply.

Hermione's slipper caught on the edge of a cobblestone, nearly sending her prostrate across the floor. She gathered herself quickly, breath searing in her lungs, and continued in the desperate race to a dying man's side.

The Hospital Wing was dark. The white canvas beds were empty, save for one. In the farthest corner of the black room, a pale blue curtain was drawn around the last bed. One glance at it made her arms being to shake, the blood soaring to her head.

Even as she watched, the curtain was torn back to reveal one of the most horrific sights her honey-colored eyes had ever settled on.

It was Severus Snape. But then, it was not. His face was not recognizable. So thoroughly had he been destroyed. Where the hooked nose and gracefully arching eyebrow should have been was a mass of purple and red gore. The left side of his face was blocked from her view by the way Snape was lying on the bed, but if it looked anything like the other half…she felt her knees start to buckle.

Albus and Minerva had already raced to their colleague's side, joining Madam Pomfrey around the unrecognizable creature.

The world began to swirl in front of her eyes. In hear ears she could hear a low, monotonous humming. The last thought that forced its way to the top of her mind before she lost consciousness was, '_Some great Healer you're going to_ _make_'.

She collapsed.

* * *

"Hermione?"

She could hear her name. Why was someone in her private quarters? She cracked an eye open.

But above her was not the pale burgundy ceiling of her bedroom. No. It was the sterile white of…the Hospital Wing? What the devil was she doing in…?

Then she remembered.

"Professor!" she croaked, pushing herself up off the mattress to look Albus Dumbledore in his wizened face. "How is he? I'm sorry I…"

She couldn't bring herself to vocalize the fact that she had fainted simply upon seeing a little blood. She was training to be a Med-Witch for crying out loud, she should be able to handle something like this. Well, alright, it wasn't a little blood. It was a lot of blood. And it was marring the face of someone she thought should be very recognizable…

Her head was swimming again.

"He is not very well, Hermione," came Albus' reply, as he reached out and gently took her arm to steady her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Which is why I've had to wake you."

"Anything I can do, Professor," she managed to say, rubbing her knuckles into her forehead.

"Well, given that you saw Severus last night, I'm sure you can imagine that he is in no position to resume teaching his classes at the moment. Under normal circumstances, I would have shifted the teachers around so that his classes were merely supervised. However, it is January, and I am sure that you realize what a critical time this is for students to conduct study in preparation for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations. Therefore, I have asked Madam Promfrey if I may remove you from your duties as a Healer-in-training, and instead place you in position as the deputy Potions Mistress."

"And what did Madam Pomfrey say?" Hermione asked, her eyes going wide. She knew that one of the biggest parts of Healer schooling was her practical work experience. Volunteering in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing had seemed a prudent choice, being that Madam Pomfrey rarely dealt with anything more than a botched acne charm and the occasional dragon injury (courtesy of Harry, of course).

"Well, as I'm sure you know, Miss Granger, an extensive knowledge of potions is necessary to be a successful Healer. Therefore, Madam Pomfrey and I have agreed that your role as Potions Mistress can still be applicable to your practical work experience. So, should you be willing, you will take over Severus' classes until such time that he is able to return to work. I need hardly tell you that you may very well be working in his stead until the end of term, but I also need hardly tell you what a great service you would be doing both myself and the Order. We would like to keep his injuries as quiet as possible."

Hermione blushed a little when he referred to her as Miss Granger, the name he always used to address her with at school. Now that she was working at Hogwarts as an adult, he had begun calling her Hermione. But despite that, he had mentioned how greatly her working in the Potions classroom would help the Order. This made her consider her answer to his proposition very carefully. Only the summer past had she been inducted formally into the Order, having now reached the age of twenty, and she felt very eager to accomplish something for the cause.

It was a moment before the air in her lungs found the way to her vocal chords and then out of her mouth.

"Alright, Professor."

* * *

Severus was nervous. It didn't show, of course. It couldn't. He could never allow it.

"Lucius Malfoy."

There was a rustling of robes beside him, and then the man to his immediate left fell prostrate on the ground, arms outstretched to the tall, pale man in the center of the room.

"My Lord," came the murmured reply from the masked figure on the floor.

"The escape went well, then?" Voldemort's lips were thin, his voice was high, and Severus fought to repress the shiver that went coursing down his spine.

"Better than we ever may have hoped," Lucius replied, still facing into the cold concrete floor. "We have escaped, all of us, completely intact."

"Excellent. You shall be rewarded. You may stand."

Lucius hurried to obey, resuming his position beside Severus with the dignity and grace of a king.

'You have just been lying on the floor with the rodents and insects, you disgusting piece of…" Severus' thoughts trailed off into an angry hiss at the back of his mind as he surveyed the profile of the man beside him.

"Severus Snape."

Without pausing for thought, Snape threw himself forward onto the floor, assuming the position Lucius had held moments ago.

"You are still in place at Hogwarts, I assume?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And yet you have not been able to provide me with relevant information from Dumbledore for months."

It wasn't a question. Shit.

"I had expected better from you, Severus. One would think that after I so graciously forgave you for not attending my rebirth celebration," some of the Death Eaters exchanged humorless laughs, "you would be clawing for the opportunity to assist me. I have placed you in one of the most important positions in my camp. And you appear to have failed. I do not appreciate failure."

"My Lord, I apologize," Severus murmured, his brain working frantically to draw up an excuse, while at the same time making sure to keep his Occlumens in place. "Albus has not been at the castle very often lately, and my interrogations of the staff members have not been going well. I am currently brewing a potion which I hope can rectify these problems."

"I do so hope that you are honest, Severus." Snape could hear him moving. He was coming closer. Shit shit shit… "Because it would be terribly disappointing if I were to discover that you were not. In fact," (he was right above him now), "to serve as a reminder to you of to whom you have sworn your allegiance, I will give you a little gift."

Snape sensed rather than heard that circle of masked figures above him shift nervously.

Voldemort laughed softly. "Crucio."

* * *

Four hours later, Snape was thrown, bleeding, battered, barely conscious, out into the hall. His mind was filled with a blank buzzing. What little he could see through his swollen eyes was tainted red by his own blood.

Gathering the last shred of his energy, Snape reached in his pocket and withdrew the quill that Dumbledore had charmed to act as a Portkey. Tapping his wand to it, he blacked out just as he felt a swooping sensation just behind his navel.

* * *

"Damnit."

"What is it, Madam Pomfrey?"

Hermione stopped folding the long bed sheet over her arm to look over to where her mentor was rummaging around in her supply cabinet.

"We're entirely out of the Merliflous draught."

"Is that a problem?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. The particular draught Madam Pomfrey was referring to was used to stop one from projectile vomiting Christmas decorations. She doubted it had been used even once in the previous twenty years.

"Number one rule about Healing at this school," Madam Pomfrey muttered, still buried in the cabinet from her waist up, "expect the unexpected."

Hermione grinned to herself, laying the sheet down on the nearest bed.

"Shall I go and ask Professor Snape if he has any in his stores?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, go on," Madam Pomfrey replied distractedly, withdrawing from the supply cabinet, examining something that looked suspiciously like a Dung Bomb in her hand.

Still grinning, Hermione exited the Hospital Wing, and headed for the nearest staircase leading down to the dungeons.

Dusk was falling, and the castle was lit with a translucent pink light as she walked briskly down the empty corridors. Being a Saturday evening, most of the castle was outside on the grounds, enjoying the wintry wonderland. Snow lay on the ground in thick heaps, and the lake was frozen over to provide an ideal skating rink. Glancing out a window as she passed, Hermione felt a pang of longing for her simpler days.

But then, she supposed as she skipped down the first few stairs, her days had never really been that simple. Almost immediately after her introduction to the wizarding world she had met the best friend (and bane) of her life, Harry Potter. No one with a close relationship with the boy could have a simple life. Not that she minded in the least.

Reflecting on her friendship with Harry brought her all the way to the dungeons without realizing the path. She only realized she had arrived when she felt the cold air curl around her, seeming to reach for something much deeper than her skin.

Shivering lightly, she drew her robes around her and began to tread the all-too-familiar path to the Potions classroom.

However, the lights were off. The heavy oak door was locked.

'Of course', she thought. 'Snape must be in his private chambers.'

'Wait. What? Why am I so complacent about going to Snape's private chambers?'

She shivered.

'That's better.'

Turning, she set off down another corridor. At the beginning of the year, Albus had shown where all the teacher's private rooms were, so that, if she should need one of them, she would be able to find them.

Snape's, ironically enough, was located behind a giant engraving of a serpent, just one corridor past the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Uh…" she murmured, staring up at the enormous serpent with its glowing ruby eye. "Er…"

She had no idea what his password may be.

"Erm….Pure-blood?"

The ruby eye narrowed.

She closed her eyes and thought. What password would no one expect him to have?

"Greasy git," she murmured under her breath.

The ruby eye closed as the snake dissolved into the wall, leaving a large hold amidst the stones.

Hermione stood still, amazed. Greasy git was his password?

"No, Miss Granger," said a voice behind her, "the password is 'Immorlious", but I don't think you heard me speak it, as you were busy trying your own…guesses."

Hermione blushed deeply, turning to see Albus Dumbledore smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling.

"I came to ask about a potion for Madam Pomfrey. Merliflous draught," she murmured, staring at her suddenly highly interesting left shoe.

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "Well, I'm afraid that Severus is not in the castle at the moment."

"Where is he?" she blurted, before realizing how nosey she was being.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "If you would like to accompany me back to my office, I should be happy to tell you. Besides, I think I may have the potion Madam Pomfrey is in need of."

Hermione didn't even bother to ask why.


	2. Chapter Two

_Very very quick A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I really greatly appreciate it. Also, in regards to how the story will end, well, Hermione will…did you really think I was going to tell you? :) honestly, right now, I'm still toying with which way I want this to turn out. I have two completely different endings, so who knows which one will make the final cut? But I must admit, that I too love the phantom and wish Christine would have stayed with him! sniff_

_Anyway…on to the fic…_

"Tea, Hermione?"

"Um, no, I mean, yes…please," she answered, taking a seat in front of the Headmaster's enormous desk.

She extended her hands to take the cup he was offering her, and then settled it in her lap, staring into the fireplace which was roaring just to her right.

"Now then," Ablus said, walking around his desk to open one of the drawers, "I believe this is the potion Madam Pomfrey requires."

He withdrew a small purple vial. A parchment label was drawn tight around the middle, marked in small, spiky hand-writing that Hermione couldn't read from her seat. She could recognize it, however. No one had ever had hand-writing quite like him…

How many times had she seen Harry and Ron's essays completely covered in that hand-writing? How often had she noticed when theirs bore an entire novel worth of insults, while hers featured usually one or two words, neither positive nor negative. Merely an acknowledgement that she had done the paper. Strange, she mused to herself, strange..

Which brought her soundly to her next topic…

"Professor…" she squirmed a little in her seat, realizing how uncomfortably hot her leg had become from her tea. She lifted the cup and rubbed her palm against her thigh. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a burn mark there later.

"I'm sure I know what you are about to ask me," Dumbledore replied. "You were unable to attend the last Order meeting, weren't you?"

Hermione felt her face burn crimson.

"Yes, sir," she stammered, "One of the Slytherin students managed to slip a lust potion into atleast forty different goblets at dinner the night of the meeting, and Madam Pomfrey and I were up for two days trying to sort it all out."

"Understandable," he inclined his head graciously. "I was not intending to make an accusation. I was merely verifying the fact that you were unable to attend the meeting, and therefore were not made aware of the most recent business that the Order has had."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, unable to think of something more intelligent to say.

"The business to which I am referring concerns, of course, Severus." He stood from behind his desk, and began to pace. "You are aware that, for some years now, Severus has been our sole informant from within Voldemort's closest circle. Well, lately, Voldemort has been suspecting that Severus is not doing all he could to, ah, infiltrate my plans." He began to walk in the other direction. "There have been questions. Far too many questions for our comfort. So, tonight, Severus has left the castle to attend the Death Eater circle."

"But I thought he wasn't going to those anymore," Hermione blurted suddenly. She was in no shape to hide the shock on her face. She knew what happened at those meetings. And that was precisely why one of the first points of business at the Order meetings was to contrive another excuse for Severus' absence.

"He wasn't," Dumbledore agreed. "But, as I've said, Voldemort grows suspicious, and we felt that it would be prudent for Severus to attend this meeting. We need to eliminate his doubt. The information Severus has been able to provide us with from within Voldemort's camp has proved invaluable. The Order can not afford to lose it."

Hermione stared down into her tea cup. She opened her mouth to reply, but at that precise moment, the door to Dumbledore's office was thrown open to reveal a very harassed and pale Professor McGonagall. Hermione watched in horror, but she knew before the words even left her mouth what the news was.

"He is injured."

**Two Months Later…**

"Professor Granger!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks, spinning to face the third year boy who was racing up the hall towards her.

"Professor," he gasped, "I have my paper on Wolfsbane for you!"

Hermione pursed her mouth slightly, then extended her hand to take the shaking parchment from his hand.

"Please try to turn the assignments in on time from now on," she said, raising her eyebrows slightly as she surveyed him. "I'll accept it this time, but this is your only warning. Alright?"

The boy nodded feverishly, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Good afternoon, then, Mr. Stefek," she said, turning around to continue on her way to the dungeons.

She coughed slightly and drew her robes around her tighter. No matter how many times she made the trek down these stairs, no matter how many hours she spent in the Potions labs, poring over her work…she would never be used to the cold of the dungeons. She had no idea how Severus had ever become used to it. No wonder he was so bitter. To acclimatize to this sort of cold, one must have to surrender atleast part of their soul.

She closed the door of the Potions classroom behind her. School had just ended on a Friday afternoon, and the castle had swarmed out into the warm March sunlight in relief. Not her, though. She had retreated to the dungeons…her new home away from home.

Slinging her robe across the back of her chair, Hermione strode over to the enormous ingredients cabinet in the back of the room. Madam Pomfrey had informed her of the need for a certain acne potion that she was running short of, and Hermione had decided to brew it before the weekend started and she officially lost all of her motivation.

Pulling various bottles from the cabinet and placing them blindly on the table behind her, Hermione didn't see the figure emerge from the shadows of her office.

She crouched a bit, rooting around for the powdered root of fangclaw, and accidentally bumped the table where the bottles sat precariously. She gasped and spun around with her hands outstretched, ready to catch any falling bit of glass.

However, the hand which stopped the bottle on the edge from shattering was not hers.

_A/N: I know it's really short, but I felt like it had to end there. The next chapter starts actually getting into the heart of the story, so I decided that this is like the last chapter of the intro. We'll find out more about Hermione's teaching, what ever happened to Severus, who Hermione is really in love with (this pairing may surprise you), and what the hell Voldemort is up to…in just a little bit. We had a snow day today, so I'm working on proof reading and should have the next chapter or two up within a day or so. On a side note, I audition for the school play tomorrow, so wish me luck!_

_Hugs and Kisses_

_–Little Lotte_


	3. Chapter Three

The hand stayed directly at her eye-level, the bottle glimmering softly in the dim candlelight. The hand was masked in a glove. She did not immediately recognize who it belonged to, but she did register blankly how smart it would have been for her to wear gloves in the dungeons to ward off the cold. Why had she never thought of that?

She tilted her head up slowly. Whoever was hovering over her was very tall.

It wasn't until the person titled his face down to look at her, still crouched on the floor, that she recognized who it was.

She shot backwards into the cabinet in horror, slamming the back of her head against one of the low wooden shelves.

The man with the gloved hands set the bottle on the edge of the table, and stooped beside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked roughly, as she reached back and massaged her bruised skull.

"Urgh," she murmured.

"Don't move," he commanded, drawing himself up to his full height once more.

She could hardly see through her streaming eyes as he disappeared into her office. He came back a moment later bearing a small beaker of red liquid.

"Drink it," he insisted, holding it to her lips. "It will help."

She cracked her lips and allowed him to pour a small amount of the potion into her mouth. Instantly, her vision cleared and the pain in her head subsided ever-so slightly.

But still she found she could not look at his face.

She could hardly see his face anyway. Almost half of it was obscured by a plain white mask. It reminded her vaguely of one that might have been seen at the masquerade parties her parents used to attend. Either way, it was mysterious, haunting, strange…

The room was swimming again. A small gasp escaped her lips before she collapsed into the arms of her previous professor.

Sunlight was streaming over face.

"Mmmmf," Hermione groaned, rolling on to her stomach to bury her face in the soft white pillow beneath her.

What? Green? Where was her white pillow? And what was that scent?

Hermione inhaled deeply, feeling slightly intoxicated. Something smelled of lavender and meadowsweet. Not at all like her normal perfume.

Then reality hit her with the force of a lightning bolt (haha). The pillow and smell weren't familiar because she wasn't in some place familiar. These were not her chambers.

Well…then, where the hell was she?

She shot upright in what she quickly noticed was a bed, clutching the green satin sheets to her still completely clothed form. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. She could hear her heart thudding.

The room she was in looked like something from a gothic picture-book. She was sitting on the centerpiece of the room, a queen-size dark green canopy bed, with sweeping curtains held with loosely braided silver rope. The curtains looked to be velvet, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers along the nearest one. Beyond the bed was a tall wardrobe, ornate in design, featuring the blackest wood she had ever set eyes upon. The entire circumference of the room was dotted with shelves at various heights, all decorated with tall, jet black taper candles, currently unlit. A tall window adorned the wall beside her, the dark green curtains having parted slightly, which caused the single beam of sunlight to rouse her from her heavy sleep.

Despite the room's obvious decadence, there was a simplistic charm about it. Hermione, however, was not in the mood to deeply appreciate anything until she found out precisely where she was. She may be in Tibet, for all she knew.

Pulling herself to the other side of the bed, Hermione slid to the floor. Two doors now faced her.

She weighed the situation carefully for a moment, before slowly approaching the first door. Reaching out with a slightly shaking hand, she grasped the ice cold silver door knob. But it wouldn't budge.

Locked from the outside, she told herself silently.

Curious…

Turning, she reached out for the other door. This time, the knob turned easily under her fingers.

Cautiously, she stepped around to peer inside the crack the door was now open to reveal. Nothing but pitch black stillness greeted her.

Screwing up her courage, she reached into her pocket to grasp her wand. Her eyes flew open when she realized it was no longer with her.

"Oh no!" she moaned softly, looking around her. "Where is my wand?!"

She closed her eyes quickly and thought. Oh no. She had left it in the pocket of her robes last night.

Or, what she supposed was last night. For all she knew, a month might have gone by.

Feeling extremely wrong-footed, Hermione returned to the door. Completely and utterly defenseless, Hermione pulled the door open the rest of the way, prepared to sink her fingernails into whatever may cross her path.

But the stillness was complete. She thought about yelling something intimidating, but decided against it. She didn't know how seriously her captors would take her as she stood there, a twenty year old wand-less witch in her wrinkled clothes of the previous day.

She doubted she could have frightened a first year.

Carefully, Hermione moved closer to the entrance of the room, sliding her hand along the inside wall for a light switch.

No such luck.

Turning back to the main room, Hermione's eyes settled upon a low shelf bearing four black candles.

Crossing to them, she gingerly picked one up. Now all she needed were some matches.

Or her bloody wand.

"Lumos," she whispered idly.

Much to her surprise, the candle in her hand burst to life, flickering with an odd blue flame.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but, feeling much too curious about the dark room to consider it very long, returned to the matter at hand.

Resting her hand against the door frame for support, Hermione stepped into the black room, the candle held before her.

At first, Hermione didn't recognize anything other than the cold, stone floor beneath her. Then, it seemed that someone at the other end of the room was holding a candle just like hers.

Hermione sucked in a breath, feeling her heart begin to race again. But just as she froze, the person on the other side of the room froze too.

Feeling a bit foolish, Hermione waved the candle around a bit. So did the person on the other side of the room.

A mirror.

Curiosity mounting, Hermione stretched a hand out in front of her and started towards the mirror. The flame of her candle flickered eerily.

The only sound in the room was that of her ragged breathing. She thought the temperature had just dropped several degrees. What on earth was going on?

After a minute that felt like an hour, Hermione began to see a scant reflection of her own face in the mirror, just above the flicker of her black candle.

Swallowing hard, Hermione stopped just before her reflection. She was so close she could have brushed the mirror with her fingertips. Still breathing sharply, she raised the candle slightly and quickly observed how spotted and cracked the mirror seemed to be.

Feeling as though she were in a trance, Hermione reached out her hand, slowly uncurling her fingers. She had no idea what she was doing.

The moment she felt the cold surface of the mirror beneath her finger tips, a million lights seemed to burst to life in the room with her, causing her to scream in horror.

All around her…the walls, the ceiling…everywhere…mirrors. Broken mirrors. Shattered completely, but still held in place. Her own pale face loomed at her from every surface. The forgotten candle lay on the floor, smoke curling from its black wick in a million different places.

On the floor were piles of heavy black fabric, which she realized must have been covering the mirrors. And, horror of all horrors, she saw that she was no longer alone in the room.

In the doorway through which she had entered, features barely distinguishable due to the amount of sunlight now streaming in behind him through the completely open window, stood Severus Snape.

_A/N: Two chapters in one day. How lucky are you?_

_p.s: "**The hand stayed directly at her eye-level, the bottle glimmering…"**_

_**Keep you hand at the level of your eyes….**_

_I just couldn't help myself :)_


	4. Chapter Four

"Professor!" she gasped.

Before she could blink, he had thrown himself into the room, seizing her by the arm and pulling her forcefully into the light of his bed chamber.

Hermione screamed. Snape flung her across the room so that she landed on her back on the bed.

Breath coming in sharp gasps, she quickly pushed herself up to look at him with wide, terrified eyes.

He was standing with his back to her, one hand resting against the front of the door which he had thrown shut. His shoulders shook once lightly. She trembled in spite of herself, wishing he would say something.

A full minute passed in tense silence, the only sound breaking the utter stillness being Hermione's shallow gasps.

"Pro…professor?" she whispered.

She watched as he curled his gloved fingers against the door, before turning slowly to look at her.

"Hermione," he said hoarsely.

She trembled again. He was standing stock still.

"I…I'm sorry," she said, her voice becoming ever more quiet. "I didn't mean to disturb anything…"

He laughed suddenly. A harsh, bruising sound. She winced.

"Didn't mean to disturb anything?" he murmured, advancing on her very slowly. "Of course not. No one ever means to. Disturb things, I mean."

She swallowed the tense knot that was forming in her throat. Whether or not she cared to admit it, she was terrified beyond her own comprehension.

"Do you know where you are, Hermione?" His voice was soft.

"No, Professor," she whispered.

"Don't call me that," he said sharply. "I am no longer a professor." He turned away from her slightly so that she was looking at the masked side of his face. "However," an odd emotion closed his eyes, "I suppose I may address you as such…Professor Granger."

Hearing her title on his lips made her shiver. She wasn't sure why.

"Which is why I've brought you here," he said, suddenly assuming a more business-like manner. "Your treatment of young Mr. Stefek was frankly embarrassing. You shouldn't have accepted his paper late."

Despite her complete shock at the entire situation, her gut feeling of terror, and her still ragged breathing, Hermione felt a ripple of anger course through her.

Sometimes that Gryffindor pride was a marvelous thing, and sometimes it was a bloody pain in the arse.

"Excuse me?" she spat. "You're not actually criticizing my teaching, are you? When I've been covering up for you for the past two months purely out of the goodness of my heart?"

Oh, what she wouldn't give to rewind time and take that entire statement back. Now she was in for it.

She stiffened immediately as he surveyed her, now staring at directly into her eyes.

Suddenly, he chuckled softly.

Hermione couldn't have been more surprised if Voldemort had pranced into the room, handing out candy and signing adoption papers for Harry.

"Yes," Snape murmured, "the goodness of your heart". An intense look of sadness clouded his eyes for a moment.

Hermione swallowed. She was pretty sure her stomach had now permanently become a series of twisted, painful knots. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"Yes you did," he admonished softly. "You don't say things you don't mean. Especially when you say them on impulse."

The tone of his voice made her squirm a little. A sudden thought struck her. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Yes, I've been following you, Hermione," Snape said quietly. Hermione, who had dropped her gaze to the carpet, looked up at him again with wide eyes.

"I forgot you were a Legilimens," she said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "One doesn't have to be a Legilimens to read the terror on your face."

Having said this, he took a few more deliberate steps towards her. Oh God. If she only knew how badly his hands ached to smooth her flyaway chestnut hair from her face. To cup her cheek tenderly. To run the rough pad of his thumb along her soft lips. She was exquisite.

As he watched, her warm brown eyes narrowed considerably and she slid her feet to the floor, drawing herself up to her full height.

"I am not terrified," she said clearly, though her legs shook slightly.

"Yes, you are," he said. "Being terrified in no way coincides with being weak." On the contrary, I think you are one of the most breath-takingly powerful, beautiful, and intelligent witches it has ever been my pleasure to detain in my chambers. "No one could blame you for being terrified, given the circumstances. I assume you believed me dead."

"Not dead, no." She let out a breath she didn't she'd been holding. The conversation was beginning to turn back to a subject she could firmly wrap her mind around. "But Albus told me…he said…"

Snape raised a hand to silence her. "I can only imagine what horrors the Headmaster has been regaling you with. Because he himself does not know what state I am in. Due to the nature of my injuries, I was sent away to a very private ward in St. Mungo's. They released me several weeks ago…completely free to come back and resume my normal teaching duties. But I…" his voice broke suddenly and turned his back on the girl completely, "I could not return."

"What?" Hermione asked, her mind reeling with this surplus of new information. "Why not?"

"Because," he said in a voice so quiet Hermione found herself inching forward in order to hear him, "because…of my disfigurement."

"Your what?"

"Miss Granger…you saw me that night."

Hermione paused. She wasn't sure whether or not she should pretend that the image of his mangled face hadn't haunted her every night for the last two months. But the sharp intellect he had always possessed was just a step ahead of her.

"I trust the image has remained rather fresh in your memory."

Hermione swallowed. "Yes," she managed to whisper. "But I thought…surely the Healers must've…"

"You of all people should know that some wounds go too deep. Too deep for even…magic to heal."

"Are you referring to Harry?"

She watched as his shoulders moved while he drew in a deep breath. "As much as I hate to bring that boy into an already perfectly miserable conversation, yes. I am referring to Harry."

"So then…you must have scars…Scars that can't…"

"…be removed with magic," he said, completing her unfinished thought.

A moment of silence hung in the air between them as Hermione's brow furrowed and she studied the intricate weaving on the back of her former professor's robes.

"But…they're just scars. Don't you remember when Mad-Eye taught here? That man is a walking scar! And I certainly don't recall anyone ever giving him trouble for it."

"Alastor is an old man," Snape said in a heavy voice. "He was also, for that matter, a relatively unknown man. The students did not have a pre-set notion of what he must look or act like."

"And you are…"

"…the great bat of the dungeons."

"Don't say that," Hermione said quickly, feeling an odd emotion at seeing this nearly broken man before her. "I happen to think you're an extremely intelligent man." She paused, trying to gauge his reaction, but he remained facing away from her, completely motionless. "I can't believe you would let something like a few scars stop you from teaching the students of Hogwarts. They need you. And deep down, I believe that you need them."

Snape suddenly turned sharply and strode towards the previously locked door. He threw it open, ricocheting it off the wall with a resounding band, and continued on into the next room.

Naturally curiosity winning out over good judgment, Hermione walked quickly after him.

"Where are you go…" she trailed off into silence, standing stock-still in the doorway.

What in the hell was going on here.

A/N:lies groveling at reviewers feet: I apologize profusely for the lateness in this update. I've been unbelieveably busy lately, what with turning 18 and applying to colleges and building my physics project and whatnot. Anyway, I'm very very sorry and I promise on my non-existent child's life that I was update this quicker from now on.

Before I go though, I must say to No, Wood is not a stick…HOW THE HELL ARE YA? It's been, like, forever since I've talked to you! How's the writing going? How's life going? How's the hell-ishness of highschool treating you? I'm about ready to off myself. Luckily I'm graduation soon :x. Anyway, I'm glad to see you haven't died either! YAY! We win!

And to all my other reviewers: THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS! I LOVE AND APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU!

And now…off to the huge snowball war I have planned for this evening! Yay!


	5. Chapter Five

The room into which he had strode was shrouded in muted light given off by the many candles that seemed to line the walls. Blue, red, black, white…every color she could imagine with as many different tinted flames. The combination of the lights seemed to be a brilliant gold, which washed over the glimmering hair of her captor and slid down to a large cauldron that was seated on the floor before him.

"What…what is all…?"

"I've been observing you lately, Miss Granger, and I must say that I find many of your instructional methods lacking. I have brought you to my private chambers in order to instruct you. As you so generously pointed out a moment ago, the students of this school need me. And they are hardly finding a suitable replacement in yourself."

Hermione bristled a bit. "Well, excuse me, but when I came here as Assistant Medi-Witch, I hardly expected to end up as resident Potions Mistress, stalking through the dungeons like some walking nightmare in place of yourself!"

His expression hardened slightly. "I may not be your professor anymore, but under these circumstances, I expect you to treat me with respect."

"What do you mean under these circumstances?" she said, her voice rising slightly. "I've hardly agreed to receive instruction from you!"

He was motionless as he surveyed her. "Then you will remain my prisoner until you agree."

Hermione staggered a bit, feeling as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her. The full reality of the situation came hurtling back at her like a semi-truck. And the reality was that she was being held captive by this man before her. And, apparently, he had already set terms on how she had to buy her freedom.

"I…you're insane," she said softly.

A small smirked betrayed him by tugging at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps. But that is a moot point. So, do you agree now? Or must I leave you alone for a few days longer so you can make up your mind?"

Hermione quickly found that swallowing her pride felt a lot like swallowing a bag of stones.

"I…fine," she managed to ground out.

Severus watched her for a moment, and it was clear to her that he was deliberating whether or not to make her repeat herself.

Obviously, deciding not to push the issue, Snape raised a single hand and beckoned her forward.

Hermione, grinding her teeth slightly, stalked farther into the chamber. However, her anger was quickly evaporating as she surveyed the shelves around her, which she could now clearly see.

Never in her life had she seen so many potions ingredients. Vials upon vials, stacked on weathered shelves crammed with random jars and old leather-bound books. The sight of the amount of knowledge she had yet to ingest was breath-taking.

She approached the cauldron before Snape, her eyes glued to the numerous shelves on the wall beside her.

"Ah, there we are. Lesson number one. Pay attention to what you are doing."

Hermione snapped out of her daze and turned to face him. "Sorry," she murmured. "It's just…I've never seen…"

"It doesn't matter how impressive my stores may seem," Snape dismissed. "You must always have your mind on your immediate work. Attention to detail is critical."

"But walking over here without my eyes strictly in front of me didn't cause any damage, did it?" she bit off as a reply, crossing her arms over her chest.

"On the contrary…" Snape said quietly, letting his eyes slide down her body with something almost akin to amusement.

Confused, Hermione followed his gaze…

"Oh Merlin!" she cried.

When she was walking, she hadn't noticed that she had begun to step in some sort of pink-ish potion that was spilled on the floor. Now, however, it was not only encasing her shoes, but had begun to creep up her legs as well.

Some quick mental referencing told her all she needed to know.

"You pervert!" she shrieked, bending down to quickly scrape off as much of the gunk as she could. She was very perturbed to find that as soon as she had one patch of her leg cleared, the potion spread to completely recover it. "Aaargh! Do something right now before it eats through all of my clothes!"

Snape chuckled softly, extracting his wand.

"Evanesco!" he said, holding it up.

Instantly, Hermione felt the goo disappear, leaving her barefoot on the cold stone floor. Glancing down, she saw that the hem of her skirt had been dissolved, and her legs were now bare to her mid-thigh.

"Stop laughing at me!" she spat, blushing crimson when she realized that Snape had, indeed, turned his face away from her slightly and was trying to mask his laughter in a cough.

"I apologize, Miss Granger," he conceded, turning back to watch her as his face slid back into his signature smirk. "I could think of no other way to enforce my point that attention is critical."

"I hardly believe that," she replied acidly. "You could have set up an experiment…or…something!" Her embarrassment and fury were beginning to make her feel slightly light-headed.

"I believe I just did set up an experiment," he said softly.

Hermione, feeling extremely wrong-footed and frustrated at having no reply, merely huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, looking away.

"Take this," Snape said suddenly, and she suddenly felt him standing beside her.

Grumpy, perturbed, but beginning to feel the chill of the stone floor she was standing on, she ripped the robes he was offering her out of his hands.

Snape moved back around to stand behind the cauldron. "Remember what I said earlier," he said dangerously, after she had not moved for a moment, "you do not leave until you receive my instruction."

Closing her eyes, Hermione slid the robe on. It was far too large for her, and smelled vaguely of pine. She looked down and saw the characteristic embroidery of the Potion Master's robes along the cuffs. Fabulous, she thought bitterly. I'm stuck in the dungeons, wearing Snape's old robes, being held hostage until I consent to have this stupid git teach me about potions I already know how to make. Just fabulous. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped around to stand beside Snape.

He looked down at her. "Are you quite ready?"

"Teach away," she murmured bitterly, staring at the pitch black bottom of the empty cauldron before her.

_A/N **:shuffles feet, looking at the ground:** um…can I just say how incredibly sorry I am?_

_My muse abandoned me. Various projects have been consuming my life. And I'm just a terrible terrible person for not updating this. I'm so very very sorry. I swear, I will not abandon this story. I love it too much. It's just soooo time consuming and I will absolutely not post anything less than my best for you guys. Forgive me?_

_No, Wood is not a stick – you're my favorite reviewer/fellow writer in the whole wide world :)_


	6. Chapter Six

"You idiot girl! I said three drops of essence of hemlock! That was clearly three and a quarter!"

"You know something, sir?" Hermione spit the word out as though it left a bad taste in her mouth, "Perhaps I would be able to concentrate better if you were not standing beside me and bellowing 'idiot girl!' every forty five seconds!"

"I can hardly help it that you're acting like an over-excitable first-year who doesn't know her arse from her elbow!"

"ACK!" Hermione screeched, chucking the wooden spoon she had been using to stir the glutinous potion across the room. "I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU!"

"You've what?" he asked, astounded.

"Why don't you just stop being a lazy git and come back to work yourself! Clearly, I am not worthy to even lick the spilt potion from off your floor, so stop trying to teach me! Just come back and I'll be on my merry way back to the Hospital Wing where I can get some bloody peace and quiet for a change!"

Snape neither moved nor blinked for several moments. Hermione stood glowering at him, feeling somewhat shocked at the tyraid that had just come out of her mouth.

"I have my reasons for not returning," he said, so softly she wasn't sure she'd hear him. "But, perhaps, that vague explanation is not good enough for the know-it-all Miss Granger. Perhaps you'd like to see with your own eyes the reason for my…hesitation."

The room seemed to be closing in around her slightly. She suddenly became very aware of how much she didn't like the look in his narrowed eyes. Her breath was coming in sharp, muted gasps.

He surveyed her coolly for a moment. A faint pink tinge had appeared in her cheeks. Her normally bushy hair was now looked entirely untamed, scattering her head in a halo of frizz, a few stray curls clinging darkly to the moisture on her forehead.

"So show me then." She was sure the words had left her mouth before clearing the matter with her brain. She trembled slightly in spite of herself, but knowing she could not back down now, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to stare into his cold, black eyes.

Snape's face hardened slightly. His right hand began lifting towards his face. He paused with his fingers a millimeter from the edge of the mask he still wore, his eyes dull and penetrating.

Then, as suddenly as if someone had thrown a switch, he threw his hand back to his side, spun on his heel, and stalked so quickly out of the room that it took her a moment to realize what had happened. The wooden door to the chamber clanged to with a heavy thud, leaving Hermione alone in the weak candlelight, beside a softly gurgling cauldron.

Shaking slightly, she wrapped her arms around her torso and sank to the floor, weak with some emotion. Whether it was relief, horror, or pity, she could never be sure.

**------- ------------ ---------------**

"Don't forget your socks!"

"I've got them, Mum."

"And your new quills!"

"Those too."

"I don't believe you for one second. Open your trunk this instant, and woe betide you if you're lying to your mother."  
Heaving an injured sigh, the ginger haired men stooped and released the rusty clasps of his old school trunk. His mother, a stout woman with equally red hair, thought it was now tinted with traces of gray, bustled over and immediately began rooting around within it.

"Mum, it took me forever to fold all of those clothes!"

"Oh, nonsense. I'll fix them up with a single spell."

"Mum, look, we're really going to be late…"

There was a loud bang from somewhere downstairs, and both mother and son looked up for a moment.

A sharp squeal followed by a strangled groan echoed up the stairs.

Raising an eyebrow, the young man crossed his arms in front of his chest as the door to the room was thrown open and in staggered a man with horribly messy black hair, followed by a young woman who was currently massaging the back of her head.

"Welcome back to the Burrow, Harry," the ginger haired man said, smirking as Harry fixed his askew glasses. "Did I forget to mention that Fred and George have been busily testing their new slip-sliding potions all over the house at the most inconvenient times?"

"Yeah, I think you might have left that out of your letter, Ron," Harry grumbled, now lightly touching the blossoming bruise on his forehead.

"Atleast you weren't thrown backwards down the stairs and landed on by someone twice your size," Ginny grumbled from where she had taken a seat on the bed. "Why were you running anyway?"  
"Was I running?" Harry replied vaguely.

Ginny scowled at him and didn't bother to reply.

"Well then, I suppose everything's in order here," the older woman said, straightening up.

"Thanks, Mum," Ron replied.

"How've you been, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, smiling at her.

"Oh just wonderful, dear," she replied in a distracted sort of way. "Busy as always, you know. What with George's wedding coming up and all…"

"Oh, yeah. How are the love birds these days?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Well, I'll be blest if I've ever seen a worse pair of trouble makers. I thought Fred and Angelina were a frightening duo," she murmured, half to herself, as she continued to sweep around the room, tidying various things and using her wand to send random objects flying into the still open trunk. "But now that George and Katie are getting married, I've begun to wonder if my house will stay in one piece." She ended this statement by shutting the lid of the trunk with a snap.

"Imagine what their children will be like," Harry muttered aside to Ginny, afraid that the subject would be too much for Molly to handle at the moment. Ginny grinned.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "And now with Charlie coming back from that long business trip to America, and Bill coming home from Egypt for the summer, my house is going to be full once more." Her voice sounded pained, but Harry knew that she was secretly very pleased. Nothing made Mrs. Weasley happier than having her house full with her family and friends.

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello! What 'ave we 'ere!"

"Speak of the devil…" said Ron.

George had stopped in the doorframe, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"All right, Harry? See you stumbled upon our latest invention."  
"Haha," Harry said, rolling his eyes at George's terrible pun. "Yeah, and what a pleasure it was to be thrown down the stairs and land on top of your baby sister."

The grin slid off of George's face, and Harry smirked in satisfaction.

"He's kidding," Ginny said, standing up. "Well, not really. But you know what I mean."

"You lot had better hurry up or you're going to be late," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, ushering them all towards the door. "Give everyone my love. Tell them your father and I will be there just as soon as he gets home from Australia."

They exchanged quick goodbyes, George shooting Harry and few choice venomous looks, and were soon standing outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, having Flooed their luggage before them.

"So," Ron said, as they started up the path, "who shall we give her love to first? Mundungus or Snape?"

_A/N LOOK! IT'S AN UPDATE! W0OT!_

_I need to do a bit of explaining. Okay, I know the second part of this chapter was really not mirrored with anything in the Phantom, but I promise that it's important. Just learn to trust me. I'm like Charles Dickens. I'll give you the most seemingly useless detail in the world, and then at the end of the piece, you find out, BOOM! IT'S THE KEY TO EVERYTHING! IT'S THE MYSTICAL KETTLE OF NACKLEDIRK AND HARRY'S AUNTIE!_

_Sorry, channeling the beloved Jo for a moment. Anyway, I KNOW I haven't clarified who Hermione's Raoul is yet, but trust me. Next chapter. Promise._

_Is it me, or did there seem to be a lot of smirking going on in this chapter? Hmmm…perhaps I was just in a a smirk-y mood when I wrote it._

_Please encourage people to read/review this story if you really like it!_

_More coming soon!_

_Big smoochy kisses_

_Little Lotte_


	7. Chapter Seven

Hermione stayed on the floor of Snape's potion room for quite some time, the cauldron still bubbling beside her. Without saying a word, she slid his robe off her shoulders and smothered the small flame beneath it, which had steadily consumed the wood below it and was now beginning to burn itself out of existence. The darkness in the room increased as she left the logs to smolder.

Sucking in a lungful of the chilly air, Hermione stood on uneasy legs.

She felt like a fool.

No, she felt like two fools.

She knew better. She should never have tested his temper. But then, she supposed that being back in this atmosphere with Severus leaning over her, instructing her…she had felt just like a student again.

And with that association came the long-buried bitterness in her soul as a reaction to the horrible way he had treated her throughout her youth.

She lowered her head and covered her face with shaking hands. She was hardly his student now. She was his prisoner.

And she would do well to bite her tongue and do what he told her if she ever wanted to get away.

'Right', she thought. 'I'll just swallow my pride, close my mouth, and let him instruct me. I'll behave.'

Behind her, one of the last candles that had yet to splutter into darkness, went out.

---------------

"They're here!"

Ron had barely taken off his jacket inside the entrance way of 12 Grimmauld Place when he was accosted by a short woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"Hi Tonks," he managed to choke out as she flung her arms around his neck.

"How are you all?" she said, as she released him and turned to Ginny and George in their turn.

"Fine," Ron replied, rubbing his neck where she had squeezed him. "I think you may have just broken a rib, though…"

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, with something of a grimace on her face.

She grinned at them. "Well, if you lot came round more, I wouldn't have to strangle you every time we meet."

"Hey," Ron said indignantly, "I've only missed two meetings! You've missed loads more than me!"

"Oh, picky picky," she said, and promptly seized his arm to drag him down to the kitchen. "Come on, you lot. Everyone's dying to see you."

George and Ginny set off down the stairs behind her. Harry, however, hovered by the door for a moment.

"It never gets any easier to come into this house, does it?"

Harry whirled around, and found Remus Lupin standing at the top of the staircase to his right, a large book perched open in his hand.

"Not really," Harry said quietly. "I mean, I know this is what Sirius would have wanted, but…"

"I understand," Remus replied, closing the book and coming the rest of the way down the steps. "Living here can't be easy. I assume that's why you've been taking so many vacations?"

"Um…yeah," Harry murmured, suddenly going quite inexplicably red.

Remus' eyebrows raised slightly, but before he could ask the question that had suddenly come to the top of his mind, a shrill voice shot up the stairs towards them.

"Harry! Remus! Will you get down here! We want to eat lunch sometime this year!"

Hermione had searched through the darkness and found the door through which Severus had left. Much to her amazement, she found it unlocked.

She slipped through it back into the well-lit bed chamber.

A gasp escaped her as she saw that Severus' fury at her had manifested itself in a most unsettling way.

The curtains were torn from the window. The ornate dresser had been turned on it's side. The bedsheets were torn and scattered. The canopy itself had been ripped down, laying in splintered pieces on the floor.

Knowing it was useless, but doing so anyway, Hermione began to try to set the room right.

One hour later..

"Miss Granger."

A steely voice cut through the air, nearly causing Hermione to topple from her precarious perch on the edge of the bed as she attempted to re-hang the curtains.

"You came back!" she said quickly, before she'd actually thought up a proper response.

"I'm taking you back to your own rooms," he said quietly. "Albus has scheduled another meeting of the Order. You are to attend, and then return immediately to the castle. I will expect a full update on the Order's business and a renewed willingness to learn from me."

"I...you…" Hermione faltered, casting around for the words. "How will I find you again?" she finally managed. Her voice escaped her mouth in a breath of a whisper.

A shadow fell across his face.

"I will find you, Hermione. Have no doubt about that."

------------

Hermione, her burgundy bag slung over her shoulder, started up the path towards 12 Grimmauld Place, shivering in the chilly breeze. April had yet to warm up to its reputation, instead clinging to a shadow of the bitter cold the winter had brought in.

Before she had even raised her fist to knock on the heavy wooden door, it was thrown open. Before she had time to register what was happening, she found herself in the midst of a very tight, many-armed embrace.

"Hello Ginny, Hello Luna, Hello Tonks," she managed to murmur into whosever shoulder was pressed against her mouth.

Ginny released her first.

"Oh Hermione! How've you been!" she asked, as Luna and Tonks took a step back, beaming at her.

"You look really pale," Luna said by way of greeting, squinting at her.

"Lovely to see you too, Luna," Hermione said, smiling, though she couldn't suppress the shiver that went through her. She didn't know what would happen if the others found out about her ordeal. None of the possible outcomes seemed very welcoming to her.

"Why didn't you come to the last meeting, eh?" Tonks asked. "I was actually here for a change!"

Hermione blushed. "Oh, you know…just busy."

"Oooh, I know that look!" Ginny squealed. "Hermione has a secret!"

"No, I certainly do not," Hermione said, adapting her most painfully dignified voice and pushing past the excited group to fully enter the house.

"Yes, you do," Ginny insisted. "Now tell us what it is before I hex you into eternity."

"No, Gin!" Hermione whirled around. "I solemnly swear that I am harboring no secrets, okay? Atleast, no secrets that are as juicy as I'm sure the ones you're imagining are. I swear. I'm still simple little Hermione."

Ginny eyed her doubtfully. "Alright, Hermione. Whatever you say."

Hermione smirked. "Exactly. Whatever_ I_ say. And right now I say we head down to the kitchen because whatever Molly's cooking smells absolutely delicious."

"True," Luna agreed, "but it isn't Molly cooking."

"Who is it then?" Hermione asked.

"Why, our dear old Remus Lupin," Tonks said, chuckling. "Who knew he had such culinary talent?"

The three girls tromped off downstairs, while Hermione stalled for a moment, allowing her bag to slide to the floor and turning to throw her coat over the enormous coat roack.

Suddenly, she sensed rather than heard someone move behind her.

Whirling around, she tore her wand out of her waistband, holding it in dueling position straight out in front of her. Her eyes roved around the darkened entrance way.

"Woah, woah, woah…"

A gentle hand from out of the shadows closed over her wrist, lowering her arm, wand and all.

"Is that how you greet your fiancé these days?"

_**A/N :ducks under the hailstorm of rotten fruit and garbage being thrown at her:**_

_**I know I said I would tell you for sure who Hermione's Raoul is…but…I decided that I would leave you hanging just one more time. I swear. The next chapter will open with the continuation of this conversation between Hermione and…yeah. I'm sure the more astute among you can guess who he is ;. And I also plan to explain my choice of 'him' next chapter. Believe me, I have my reasons for choosing 'him' even though I really usually abhor the idea of Hermione with 'him'.**_

_**Please tell me you can guess who it is! I gave you so many hints!**_

_**Oh, and if it's been awhile since you've read the beginning chapters, you may want to go back and just skim them. There are some very big clues in the first few chapters alone. Look out for anytime anyone 'blushes' or 'reflects'. And that's all I'll say about THAT.**_

_**I love all of my reviewers. You all make me so very happy. Your compliments are amazing. Thank you all so very very very much.**_

_**If anyone would like to contact me for any reason, feel free to send me an email at I don't check my email a lot though, so be patient with me.**_

_**Recommend this fic to your friends, if you like it, please!**_

_**Love, hugs, and phantom-y kisses,**_

_**Little Lotte**_


	8. Chapter Eight

Hermione let out a breath as her heart sunk back down to her chest from where it had been hovering in her eardrums.

"Sorry," she said softly, sliding her wand into her back pocket.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione gave him a shadow of a smile. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"You seem awfully jumpy."  
"I'm not. I'm just…very tired."

"Ah. Taking over for the old greasy git has finally started to take its toll on you, hasn't it?"

Hermione's face was unreadable. "Yes."

Suddenly the large chandelier above them burst into life. They both turned to see Dumbledore standing at the head of the stairs leading down to the kitchen, his wand in his hand.

"Why don't you two come down for dinner?" he said, smiling. "Lupin's made a marvelous roast."

"We'll be right down, Sir," Hermione said, turning to rifle through the pockets of her coat.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, before he turned and headed back downstairs.

Hermione felt her fiancé move up behind her.

"Think he knows about us yet?" he said quietly.

"That man knows about everything," Hermione said, pulling a small notebook and a pen out of her coat pocket. She turned around to face him. "You know, we're going to have to tell everyone sometime, Harry."

He grinned at her, his green eyes glittering in the light from the chandelier. "How about tonight?"

---- ------------------ ------------------------------------

"Damn her!"  
Snape threw the door shut behind him. It slammed into the frame, quickly resealing itself with various wards.

"Her report had better be flawless," he murmured, rubbing his hands over his face in an agitated fashion. He had almost learned to completely repress the shudder that fought to run through him when his fingers touched his soft, white mask.

Heaving an injured sigh, he threw himself down on the nearest chair, the fireplace at the end of the room roaring to life.

"Hermione," he sighed. "I hope for your sake that you know to keep your silence. If the others find out about my condition, I won't be the only one in trouble."  
His eyes strayed to the fire.  
"Oh no," he said softly, "I'll be far from the only one in trouble."

--- --------

"The one hundred and eleventh meeting of the Order of the Pheonix will now come to order."

The basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, which had always seemed so spacious to Hermione, now felt as though it were ready to burst at the seams. It was exceedingly crowded around the wooden table where most of the Order sat, while still some were left standing, leaning against the counters and walls. Ron had offered his chair to Tonks, and, being the gracious guest, had sat on the stove top himself. Hermione was in the process of idly waiting for Fred or George to ignite the stove from the other side of the room, when Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table, rose to his feet

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "thank you all for coming on such short notice."

There was a murmur of assent around the table, and Hermione distinctly heard Mundungus, who was a few seats away from her, mumble something about missing out on a 'fine shipment'.

"You are all, perhaps, wondering what I have called you here for," Dumbledore continued, his glasses glimmering in the candlelight. "We are gathered today to discuss a very grave matter. I am sure that you are all aware now of the disappearance of Severus Snape."  
Nearly everyone nodded mutely, or gave some indication that they had understood.

"He has been missing for three months time. I have owled St. Mungo's repeatedly, and they assure me that he is no longer in their care. However, we have also heard no suggestion that he is no longer attending the meetings of the Death Eaters. This leads me to believe that he is, indeed, alive."

At this, several Order members began murmuring to one another, while others just shook their heads lightly in disagreement or disbelief. Hermione lifted her shaking hands from the table and folded them in her lap.

"And so," Dumbledore said, now sweeping around the room. "I would suggest that we begin a proper search for him. I know that Remus and a few others have been scouring the countryside on their days off, hunting for any hint as to his whereabouts."  
"We've been unsuccessful so far," Remus added. "Although we did get an account of a hooked-nose, black-haired, tall man from a witch in Glasgow, but I would estimate her to be around a hundred years in age, and the number of cats with which she occupied her flat may hint at a bit of mental instability…"

"In light of this unsuccessful casual search," Ablus interrupted, his eyes sparkling, "I propose that we form an organized search system. Is there anyone who would like to volunteer to head this party?"

Hermione's hands shook more violently as no one in the room moved. Finally, clearing his throat slightly, Harry, who was seated immediately to her right, stood up.

"I will, sir," he said.

Dumbledore hesitated a moment.

"I would not ask you to take on more responsibility than necessary, Harry," he said evenly, surveying him over the top of his spectacles.

"Please, sir," Harry replied, "I haven't had much active duty in the Order. Besides, Professor Snape saved my life." He felt Hermione's hand snake up and interlace her fingers with his own. He squeezed it lightly.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded after a moment, "you will lead the effort to recover Professor Snape."

Harry took his seat again, Hermione turning to give him a small, watery smile. She knew what sort of effort it had taken for him to forgive Snape for Sirius' death, even though it hadn't really been Snape's fault to begin with.

Hermione wasn't paying attention as ten or so other members eventually raised their hand and volunteered to help. She sat deep in contemplation, still trembling lightly, and trying to focus on Harry's thumb running across her fingers.

What was going to become of her? Could she really continue to accept instruction from Severus? Should she tell Dumbledore that he was, indeed, alive? What would happen to her if Severus was angry? She had no idea what sort of access he had to her. He had already been trailing her for weeks without her knowledge, and he had managed to kidnap her once. What would stop him from doing it again? And what if she couldn't get away this time?

And yet something deep inside her compelled her to keep quiet.

Under the table, Harry squeezed her fingers gently. Hermione's chair shook slightly with the strength of the tremor that ran through her.


	9. Chapter Nine

_A/N: Before I give you the chapter, I feel I must address an issue of dire importance (er, sort of). Anyway, I was quite literally gobsmacked to see that an alarming number of you really thought I would put Hermione and Albus together. WHAAAAAT!_

_Good lord! Once I regained consciousness, I went back and looked at the earlier chapters. I think I found the passage that may have confused you._

_I told you to look out for blushing. You saw blushing when Hermione was telling Albus about why she missed the last Order meeting (a Slytherin student had spiked a bunch of people's goblets with a lust potion). Well, quite apart from wanting to shag Dumbledore, Hermione was blushing because she was LYING, YOU SILLY GEESE! She was lying to Albus because she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about her and Harry yet. As you will find out soon enough, on the date in question Hermione was, in fact, with Harry and he was proposing. That is why they both missed the meeting. You silly, silly fools, you. I may be cruel and very strange, but I would never put Hermione and Dumbledore together! Major ick!_

_Well, I think I've made my point clear enough. Here's the chapter (though I don't know if you really deserve it seeing as you're all mad as badgers)…_

* * *

Thick clouds blanketed the sky as a new Scottish morning broke, cool and gray.

In the very pit of the Hogwarts castle, in a drafty room warmed by a very few creature comforts, Hermione paced back and forth over her threadbare scarlet rug.

Her hair hung in a mass of wild, tangled curls: her pale hands clutched her off-white robes together: her face had grown gaunt, her once bright eyes now appearing sunken and dull. A nervous tick was driving her to nibble her lower lip until a spot of crimson blossomed on the tender flesh.

It had been two weeks since Dumbledore's emergency Order meeting. Two weeks without any word from Severus. Or Harry. That is, unless you count the hastily written note Hedwig had dropped on her head the morning before last.

'Hermione,

Can't say much here. Will see you soon.

Love,

Harry'

Atleast, that's what she was pretty sure it said. He had smudged the ink in his apparent haste.

Hermione felt unsure of herself. So unsure that she was currently wearing a track in the floor with her incessant pacing.

She should have been overjoyed. She should have trusted the tiny part of herself that insisted that her nightmare was over and Severus had been recovered. She should have picked herself up, dusted herself up, and moved on with her life. Gotten back to her teaching. Perhaps even started working back in the Hospital Wing part-time.

But…

Oh yes. Isn't there always a 'but'.

Every time she let herself slip just a bit into complacency, when she began to trust her impulses...something terrible would happen.

_

* * *

_

_It had started a week ago. Having been back at the school for a full week with no appearance from Severus, Hermione had grown back a bit of her confidence. She returned to her classes with a renewed vigor, admitting to herself that she was still smarting a bit from Severus telling her she was an insufficient teacher._

_It had been a long day. The students were tired, having just completed one of the most difficult potions that was to appear on their N.E.W.T.s. She watched with mild satisfaction as the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins packed away their things. Only two groups had not managed to complete the potion properly. But as one of these groups was comprised of the brother of Luna Lovegood and a round-eyed, forgetful boy who very well may have been Neville Longbottom himself, she was resolved not to be upset._

_She had just started to sift through the large pile of third-year essays on the corner of her desk, when suddenly a loud and resounding BANG ricocheted through the classroom._

_Her desk shook violently, several of the small ink quills resting on it fell to the floor and burst in a shower of purple and red._

_She leapt up from her desk immediately, fingers automatically scrambling into her robes to grab her wand._

_"Nobody move!" she screamed, sounding more like a terrified school girl than a learned Potions instructor. "What was that noise?"_

_But the students had begun screams of their own, backing away from the only cauldron the remained standing, right in the back of the room. They retreated to the walls like lightning, most yelling, and quite a few covering their faces with clawing fingers._

_Hermione banged her hip into the sharp corner of her desk as she tore around it. Hissing in pain, her eyes watering, she blinked furiously as she quickly approached the cauldron before her._

_Now, at a distance of about ten paces, she could see that it was the cauldron of Lovegood and the other boy. Her mind raced for a moment, searching for a name. Gervais. Dominic Gervais._

_Neither boy was in sight._

_She whirled to her right, where one clump of students was gathered about twelve feet from her._

_"What happened here?"  
The girl nearest to her was shaking, her face a deathly white. "We don't know professor. It just…the cauldron just…" she murmured off, her eyes sliding slightly out of focus. It was then that Hermione noticed that the girl, along with several of her classmates, was covered in something that looked horribly like…_

_"Where are Lovegood and Gervais?" she demanded loudly, spinning around, a distinct note of fear in her voice. "Come here immediately or you'll both serve detention indefinitely!"_

_"He's over there!" a voice cried suddenly, and she saw someone pointing an outstretched hand at the far corner of the room._

_She sprinted quickly to where she could now see a shiny black shoe protruding from the shadows._

_"Lovegood? Lovegood!"_

_She pulled the boy from the shadows, and noticed quickly how his skin was the color of parchment._

_Holding her wand like a sword, she severed the front of his robes and his shirt, leaving his pale, motionless chest exposed._

_Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the six-inch gash that danced across his rib cage, several steady trickles of blood dripping from it to pool on his side._

_"Scourgify Minima!" she said quickly, instantly vanishing the blood and cleansing the wound._

_"Reparo Exama!" she followed, passing her wand in a circular pattern over the gash. Obediently, the wound sealed itself._

_Her eyes roved over him for a moment, searching for signs of life._

_"Oh I really hate doing this…" she murmured. But, resigned to the inevitable, she lifted her wand and clutched both her hands around it, pointing it downward like a dagger she was about to drive into his chest._

_Raising it right above her head, she brought it down sharply, drawing several astonished and horrified gasps from her on-looking students._

_Just before the tip of her wand made contact with the boy's chest, a jet of solid purple light shot from it. The boy instantly began gasping harshly, coughing and rolling onto his side._

_Hermione staggered a bit, doubling over at the sudden loss of energy. Every time she had performed that spell in the past, she had needed days to recover. Now, however, she had only seconds to pull herself together. One of her students was still missing._

_"Lovegood," she gasped, forcing her eyes to focus. "Where's Dominic? What's happened to him?"  
Lovegood only coughed weakly, bringing a slight flush to his face._

_"Listen to me," Hermione demanded, placing her hand on the boy's shoulder and blinking sluggishly against the gathering darkness in her own vision. "I have to find him. I have to heal him. Where is he?"_

_Unable to articulate an answer, Lovegood raised a hand and gestured up to the ceiling._

_"What…?" brows furrowed, she tilted her head back to look where Lovegood was pointing._

_And her eyes alighted upon something more terrible than she ever could have imagined a single image to be._

_Attached to the high, stone ceiling was a single, steel chandelier, peppered with hundreds of glimmering, pale candles. But it was not the candles that drew her attention; it was the candlelight._

_Which was currently dancing across the face of her dead student._

_Suspended twelve feet in the air, so that if she stood, his toes would barely touch her head, was Dominic Gervais, hung from his neck by a thick black rope, the other end of which was wrapped around an arm of the chandelier._

_Silence complete and absolute blanketed the room. For a moment, Hermione was sure that every breath was suspended and every heart skipped a beat. She never truly appreciated how loud silence could be. That is, until the absolute chaos exploded around her._

_Hysterical screams and sobs filled the air. Hermione could hear several students pounding on the wooden door, attempting to force it open._

_Apparently, someone had found it necessary to trap them in the room with the dead body._

_The world swam before her, but she quickly jumped to her feet, pointing her wand at the rope._

_"Dissendium!" she shouted, severing the rope neatly._

_"Wingardium Leviosa!" she added quickly._

_"Leave the room!" she screamed over her shoulder. "Go! Quickly!"_

_"Professor the door is stuck!" she barely heard this desperate cry over the din of sobbing and screams, which echoed terribly off the stone walls._

_"Ackerly, use 'Bombarda Stratum'!" she commanded loudly._

_A second later, she heard her best student bellow the spell, and the heaving crowd around her surged into the corridor, sprinting off in a million different directions._

_The world around her was growing black and the ground lurched beneath her feet, but Hermione focused every bit of her strength on lowering the body neatly to the floor, and then staggering over to the large fireplace in the back of the room._

_She threw a pinch of the glittering dust from the jar on the mantle into the flames, and then called, "Professor Dumbledore! Come to the Potions room immediately! There's been a terrible…terrible…trage…" she swooned, her eyes fluttering closed, her wand slipping to the floor._

_She hardly noticed when a pair of strong arms, clad in black, wrapped around her from behind, lowering her gently to the floor before disappearing completely as a white haired man stepped out of the fireplace._

**_

* * *

_**

****

_A/N: Also, I don't know if anyone caught it, but I made a HUGE mistake._

_In the last chapter, I said that Ron gave up his chair to Ginny at the meeting._

_GINNY ISN'T OLD ENOUGH TO BE IN THE ORDER. D'OH!_

_This also completely contradicts the slight backstory that will be coming regarding her and Luna and why they were even at Grimmauld Place to begin with._

_I grovel and apologize. I can't believe none of you caught that. I'm embarrassed._

_**Edit: I've fixed it :)**_

_**Your humble and contrite author,**_

_**Little Lotte**_


	10. Chapter Ten

_Confusion ahead! Go back and just glance at the last chapter. To help you keep everything straight, flashbacks are now italicized. Things will be jumping around a bit, so keep a sharp eye out._

_WARNING! BAD WORDS AHEAD! SHIELD YOUR VIRGIN EYES IF YOU MUST!_

* * *

"So we'll have a May wedding then?" 

"Whatever you want, love."

"Oh don't hand me that tosh, George Weasley. I'm not falling for that 'oh-I'll-go-along-with-anything-because-I-love-you-so-much' act. You're going to have a say in this wedding whether you like it or not."

George's eyes twinkled in the starlight as he surveyed his soon-to-be bride with mild satisfaction.

"Always knew I shouldn't marry a female Quidditch player," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Brutal, you lot."

"Got that right," she responded, jabbing him sharply in the ribs with her pointer finger.

"Ouch!" he shifted away from her on the grass. "Alright, alright. How about the twenty fourth? Does that suit Her violent Majesty?"

"Suits me just fine," she grinned.

"No more jabbing then," he warned, before pulling her back into his arms. She grinned as they lay back on the soft summer grass and stared up at the stars that were hovering in brilliant clusters in the velvety sky above the Burrow.

* * *

_The forty-eight hours following the incident in the dungeons passed for Hermione in a blur of paperwork, stabbing headaches, crippling nausea, meetings with hysterical parents, and generous memory modifications. Madam Pomfrey had been forced to recall her permanently to the Hospital Wing over the weekend. Forty three students had looked upon the corpse of their classmate. Forty three memories had to be modified immediately. A meeting of the entire school had to be called. And one family had to be summoned to the castle to receive the worst possible news._

_It took Hermione precisely twenty two minutes to regain consciousness after Dumbledore arrived in her classroom. And those twenty two minutes were the only precious moments of solid unconsciousness she would have for weeks to come._

_"Hermione, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist you take a break."_

_Ink trickled across the parchment in front of her. She jerked up sleepily, shaking her head. "Shit," she cursed softly as she watched the ink spread like black veins across the yellow parchment entitled 'ACCIDENTAL DEATH FORM'._

_But even as she began scuffling things aside and reaching for her wand, a gnarled hand descended, and with a gentle touch, vanished the spreading ink._

_"You need to rest," Dumbledore said gently, though his tone left no room for argument._

_"I can't rest," she insisted, rubbing the half-concocted sleep furiously from her eyes and threading her fingers through her unruly hair. "I've still got all these forms to finish and his parents are coming up tomorrow and we still don't know what the bloody fucking hell happened."_

_Whatever she had been about to say next died in her throat as she clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. She'd just sworn. Hermione Granger did not use that sort of foul language. And not only had she sworn, but she'd done so in front of her old Headmaster and her current employer. It was rather like being caught snogging by her grandfather._

_But Dumbledore merely surveyed her over the top of his half-moon spectacles._

_"And for what I believe is the second time, I can happily assure you that I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't heard a word you just said."_

_"I'm sorry sir," she said quietly, and was quite horrified to feel tears beginning to prick the corner of her eyes. "I'm just so…"_

_What? Terrified? Sickened?_

_"I understand, Hermione. It is perfectly natural to feel overwhelmed right now. However, I and the students need you to be strong." Dumbledore gathered her scattered papers with a flick of his wand and set them neatly on the corner of her desk. "And I am highly skeptical of your ability to remain brave in the face of this tragedy when you are getting little to no sleep for several consecutive days."_

_Hermione rested her head in her hands and stared sullenly at the now bare surface of her desk._

_"This is all my fault."_

_The words were so quiet, she hoped against hope that he hadn't heard them. She hadn't meant to say them aloud. But in her current sleep-deprived state, thoughts and half-formed ideas were slipping from her mouth more frequently than she would care to admit._

_"Hermione," Dumbledore said after a pause, "it is an odd quality that you and your friends possess. Both admirable and reprehensible, you are all far too ready to accept the blame for things that have absolutely nothing to do with you."_

_The tears were really burning now. It had something to do with her. And she bloody well knew it._

_"I will meet with the boy's parents first. For now, I absolutely insist that you retire to your bedchambers." And with that tone of definite finality, Dumbledore scooped up the stack of papers and turned to leave._

_Hermione kept her eyes trained on the desk as he made his way out. However, just before he closed the heavy wooden door behind him, he turned and addressed her once more._

_"Make no mistake, Hermione, that whoever is behind this attack will be caught," he said quietly, but she could feel the fury and the dormant formidable power behind his words._

_The candles had burned down to their brackets. The dungeons were shrouded in shadows. Though her eyelids sagged and her body ached for sleep, Hermione still sat at her desk, her mind thrumming._

_"Why did it have to be a student?" she said softly._

_No answer echoed back at her from the stone walls._

_"WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A FUCKING STUDENT!"_

_Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, hurling the nearest inkwell at the door. Screaming in agony, she continued demolishing everything within her reach, before she crumpled into a ball on the cold floor, her arms wrapped around herself in defeat, no longer bothering to fight the sobs of misery that were tearing from her throat._

* * *

Sleepless night upon sleepless night left Hermione in her current state, pacing over her threadbare rug, waiting for something. She wasn't sure what. 

So it had been two weeks since the Order meeting and one week since the death of her student. She still couldn't bear to think of his parents' haunted eyes. Their expressions of disbelief. Their horror.

Her fault.

Dark musings surfaced from the recesses of her mind as her pacing slowed and she sunk into the nearby arm chair.

**Knock knock knock**

Hermione didn't hear it at first.

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

She leapt off her chair, crashing into her table and nearly taking out the ornate candelabra that sat on it. Stumbling to the door, she wrenched it open, half-hoping and half-expecting to see someone terribly familiar.

But what she saw sent a surge of warmth through her. Unbidden tears of happiness rose to her eyes.

"Harry!" she managed to croak, before flinging herself into his arms.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I know this is sort of against my policy of being a lazy shmuck who does nothing, but because I love you all (and I have three days off of work for the 4th of July. WOO!), I've decided to personally reply to a few of the latest reviews._

_PhantomFlutePlayer – don't worry. I forgive you for your ca-razy suggestions_

_Sweetsyph – YAY! I'VE SUCKED IN ANOTHER PERSON:ohsojealous: have fun at the show! It's awesomezors!_

_Morauko – thanks for the review, and I really liked your story too EVERYONE GO READ MORAUKO'S STORY IF YOU AREN'T SQUICKED BY SLASH! GO NOW, YOU FOOLS!_

_Dali2thellamasquared – I love you. And I'm just fabulous. How are things on your end of the world? (er…one state over )_

_Lostmysock – yes, yes, I agree._

_Love that elf – don't die!_

_Aleatha515 – all in good time, my child. You shall see all in good time._

_Oh, yeah, and Morauko asked about clarifying the ages of everyone and so forth. Right. Excellent. Good question. Right-o. I, as the author, should be able to answer that quickly and with no hesitation._

_Which begs the question why I sat here for fifteen minutes re-figuring it all out._

_But I did it!  
So here it goes. Sorry I confuzzled you all_

_Hermione – turned 20 on September 19th at the beginning of this year. So she's currently 20._

_Harry – 19 (not 20 until July)  
Ron – just turned 20 about halfway through this fic (on March 1st). It wasn't mentioned though._

_Ginny – 18 (will turn 19 on August 11th). Has spent nearly an entire year out of Hogwarts. Graduated two months before turning 18._

_Luna – same age as Ginny, but with different birthdays, obviously._

_Luna's brother (Lovegood) – a seventh year. So when Luna was at Hogwarts, he would have been one year below her. Not technically mentioned in the books, but hang with me here._

_I think one of the confusing factors was that I (stupidly) told you that Harry and Hermione were 'quite a bit older'. That was really poetic license on my part (read: a HUGE exaggeration). They're not very old. They're only 2 years out of Hogwarts. But, I'll justify them getting married by saying that, with the things they've had to handle, they've grown up a lot faster emotionally than most kids. Right. And I'll stand by that._

_I hope this chapter didn't confuse you. I jumped around. Last chapter started with Hermione pacing, and then the incident and the first part of this chapter was her flashback, and now we're back in the present with her resumed pacing._

_The George and Katie thing is happening in the meantime in the background._

_Big thanks and love goes out to all my reviewers. You guys are amazing._

_Love,_

_Little Lotte_


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Short chapter here, sorry. Butmuch longerand BETTER stuff is coming very soon! Maybe even later tonight or tomorrow. SSHG fans will soon be very happy with me :)_

* * *

Severus couldn't believe his eyes.

_There's no way in bloody hell that Harry Potter is walking up to this castle right now._

But, apparently, and much to his horror, there was indeed a way in bloody hell that Harry Potter was currently making his way up to the Hogwarts doors, laden down with a large trunk and what appeared to be his broom.

_Still toting that broom around. How very predictable of you, Potter._

Snarling in disgust, Snape's seized a fistful of the heavy curtains on either side of him and wrenched them shut, instantly plunging the room into darkness.

* * *

Harry nearly collapsed under Hermione's weight, which, though quite insubstantial, was a bit troublesome when hurled around without warning.

"Oh God…Oh Harry…I can't believe it's you…" she was murmuring incoherently into his shoulder, clutching onto him for dear life.

Harry ran a hand tentatively up and down her back, hoping that this comforting gesture was working to hide his utter amazement. He had been expecting a reaction from Hermione when he turned up unexpected. He had expected a surprised grin, perhaps a warm hug. He hadn't counted on being smothered by a hysterical woman who seemed reluctant to release him despite the fact that she was crushing several of his internal organs in her vice-like grip.

"Her…Hermione," he managed to choke out, freeing one hand to fix his askew glasses. "What on Earth is the matter, love?"

It was only then that Hermione stepped back, giving him a watery grin.

"Nothing," she whispered, now running her fingers delicately along his cheek. "Nothing at all now that you're here."

Harry hesitated a moment, then grinned, placing a hand over her own.

"Glad to hear it."

But something suddenly flashed in Hermione's eyes, quite apart from the joy he'd seen there a moment ago. Something that looked akin to fear.

"Not to sound rude," she said softly, now gathering both his hands in her own, "but what are you doing here?"

"Well, I didn't want to tell you in the letter, because I wanted to surprise you," he said happily. "I've decided to move into the castle permanently. Dumbledore and I talked it over and we agreed that it would be the best place to centralize the effort for Snape's recovery."

His face flickered out of focus before her eyes.

Harry, natural Quidditch reflexes springing to life, just barely managed to catch Hermione before she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

A long curtain of black hair hung in front of glittering, obsidian eyes. Eyes which were currently staring down into a scarlet bedroom, where a young man with untidy black hair was easing a petite, brunette woman on top of a sprawling bed. He covered her gently with the duvet and summoned a pitcher of water for her. Leaving it atop her bedside table, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Concealed in the shadows, able to detectonly his own muted breathing, the intruder's sharp ears distinctly heard the young man whisper, "Just rest here for a while."

Black eyes glinted as the young man turned and left the chamber, closing the door soundly behind him.

A small, pale hand reached up to push an unruly mass of curls off the woman's forehead. She lay perfectly still then, for what seemed like an eternity, then carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Glancing around, she stood and quickly approached the wardrobe, pulling out an old pair of black robes.

She appeared to study the ornate weave along the seams, before gently beginning to trace it with shaking fingertips.

"Miss Granger, I believe that you have something which belongs to me."

* * *

The air vanished from her lungs as a terrible, dark thrill surged through her at his words. She found that, though she could certainly feel his presence behind her, she could not lift her eyes from the robes she held in her hands. His robes. The robes she had kept after their last encounter.

A warm hand grasped her upper arm, turning her around to face him with a surprisingly small amount of force.

She watched as he stretched a large, slender-fingered hand over the fabric on which her eyes were currently trained. The contrast of his ivory skin against the ebony of the fabric made Hermione shudder a bit.

"Time for your next lesson, Hermione."

"And if I refuse?" Her words were quiet.

"You won't."

* * *

_A/N: Look at all these updates! And all you marvelous reviewers! Honestly, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, every single review I get puts a grin on my face. It's the best part of my day when I get new reviews._

_Anyhoo, this is the part where I pout like a little girl and share my sad life story with you all. The reason I'm updating so much right now is because my best guy friend in the whole wide world is currently in New York. And not here with me. So I'm isolated and pouty. Because my other friends are all too busy to come play with me :( It's nice because me and my best guy friend (whose name is Bryan) both work in the mornings/early afternoons so we spend virtually every night together. I miss him :( I am one very very sad authoress this evening. So, as a result, I sit in the dark in front of my computer and play all of the CDs he's ever made me and write moody chapters for this story (which he inspired me to write in the first place)._

_He doesn't come home until Monday. And he leaves on August 19th for college! I don't leave until the 24th and my college is a whole four hours from his! **:cries:**_

_Sorry. That's my sad story for the evening. Just wanted to share a little part of my personal life with you all (pathetic though it may be)_

_Please keep reviewing. It's the only bright spot in my currently sad life._

_Love and hugs,_

_Little Lotte_


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